Sweet Seduction

by Camilla Stevens

  That was a good sign at least.

  The large crowd of people packed into the small space was overwhelming, especially with the way they openly stared at Layla with expressions ranging from warm and welcoming, to some of the smaller children who blinked with blunt curiosity.

  “Okay, so in order,” Patrick began, “This is my oldest brother William and his wife Terri; that’s Kathleen who you met, and her husband, Mark; then Margaret and David; Eileen and Enzio; Liam and Kim; Rose and Greg. The grandkids…well, you’ll eventually get around to all of them.”

  Each one either shook her hand warmly or brought her in for a hug.

  Then there was Patrick’s mother.

  Marjorie Fitzgerald was sitting in a well-worn arm chair near the Christmas tree that seemed as though it was her usual perch. She had eyes the same color blue as Patrick’s. Layla could see that she had once been very pretty, especially with the lashes surrounding those eyes, and the pert, almost kittenish nose. Raising seven kids on nothing but a fireman’s salary had long since taken care of that. However, the lines on her face hinted that most of them had been created via smiles rather than frowns.

  At least she wasn’t shooting death glares at Layla. In fact, her look was more one of calculating assessment than anything, as though trying to find a chink in the armor somewhere…at least beyond the obvious.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “Very nice to meet you as well.”

  Polite. Maybe too polite. Could be worse.

  “Ma,” Patrick said coming in closer to hug her.

  Instantly, the almost stand-offish veneer eroded as those lines on her face crinkled to bring in her youngest, and quite possibly favorite by the look of it, for a hug.

  “Patty,” she said. “

  “Patty?” Layla repeated with a smile. She saw Patrick grimace at the nickname.

  “Uh-oh, now you’ve done it, Ma,” said William.

  “What? It’s adorable,” Layla said smiling even wider. “Patty,” repeated said turning to him.

  “He hates that nickname!” Kathleen laughed.

  “Peppermint Patty!” yelled Liam.

  “Patty cake, Patty cake!” added Rose.

  Everyone began laughing. Patrick’s face just grew red.

  “You all leave Patrick alone,” Marjorie scolded, saving the biggest look of disdain for Layla.

  So much for making a good first impression.

  “Don’t worry, Ma will come around,” Kathleen was assuring Layla while they worked in the kitchen preparing food for the night’s meal.

  “She gives all the new additions to the family a hard time. Frankly, I think you’re getting off easy,” Kim, Liam’s wife said.

  “She also gets particularly protective of the baaaby,” Margaret said it in such a way that hinted they were used to him getting special treatment.

  Patrick’s sisters and sisters-in-law laughed.

  “You do plan on having kids, right?” asked Rose.

  Layla blinked. Patrick hadn’t even proposed and already his sisters were talking kids. “Um, yes, of course,” she stuttered. “But—“

  “Yeah, that’s what did the trick for me and Enzio,” Eileen said. “Before that he was always ‘ya Italian fellah,’” she laughed at the memory of it. “Three kids later and now I think she likes him more than me.”

  “Heck, Michael is about as Irish and Catholic as they come, and she still gave him the evil eye at first,” Kathleen laughed.

  “What are you making?” Margaret asked, watching Layla stir.

  “It’s a bourbon spice cake.” She blinked as a thought occurred to her. She wanted to mentally slap herself. “It’s okay to use alcohol, isn’t it? Most of it gets evaporated during—”

  She saw all six women look at each other then laugh out loud.

  “Oh honey, you’ll fit right in. You’re practically Irish already. But you may have to settle for plain old Irish whiskey in this household in the future,” said Rose.

  “In fact, why don’t we crack open that bottle for a little nip?” Eileen said, eyeing the bottle that Layla had purchased in Manhattan before heading down to Bay Ridge.

  Rose reached into the cabinet to grab some glasses. Although the last thing Layla wanted was to get even remotely tipsy during her first meeting with Patrick’s family, she also didn’t want to be a wet blanket.

  Eileen must have seen her expression. “Don’t worry, in this family it can only help to get a bit lubricated during family get-togethers.”

  The rest of them laughed.

  Once a good finger was poured in each glass, Kathleen raised hers toward Layla.

  “Welcome to the family,” she said with a wink.

  “Good luck!” Rose threw in, making the rest of them laugh again.

  Then they all sipped.

  Layla felt the burn go down her throat and felt a bit better. At least most of Patrick’s family were a pure joy to be around.

  “So, what do you think?” Patrick asked his mother.

  He’d pulled up a dining room chair to sit next to her for a private conversation. He finally had a moment where Liam and William smoked outside, his sisters were in the kitchen with Layla, and the kids were playing video games in the den.

  Marjorie gave a heavy sigh. “She’s prettier in person than the pics you sent,” she offered with a shrug. “Since you haven’t mentioned it, I’m assuming she’s not Catholic?”

  Patrick crinkled his brow, biting his lower lip.

  “Nevah mind,” she said waving her hand. “I’m too old to be picky any more.”

  She stared ahead, then after a moment turned back to him. “So you love her? You must if you’re subjecting the poor thing to ya mother.”

  “Yeah,” he said simply, “I do.”

  “I will say, she’s not as bad as I…assumed. You know how some a them are.”

  “Ma—” Patrick said with a warning tone.

  “What? I’ll say the same for some a us Irish, Patty, so don’t start.”

  Good God, she was even more prejudiced than he thought. He sighed, looking down at the hands that were folded as he leaned on his elbows

  “Don’t get yaself in a twist, Patty. I’m not going to start burning crosses here. She seems sweet. At least she can cook, so there’s that. Is she what I expected for you? No. Is she the worst thing I assumed you’d end up with? No. I can give you that much.”

  She studied him. “I suppose ya gonna marry this girl?”

  He looked up at her in surprise. Was it that obvious?

  “Yeah, Ma, I am.”

  “Then I suppose she’ll be family. Just tell me she wants kids at least.”

  Patrick thought back to that big Victorian house with plenty of room for a family. Although she still hadn’t come around to his idea for four, she certainly wanted a family.

  “Yeah,” he said chuckling. “We’re definitely gonna have kids.”

  For the first time he saw a satisfied smile. “I don’t know what it’ll be like for them, being mixed and all. Fortunately, not everyone is as hard headed as ya Ma is.”

  Patrick thought back to the town of Olla, which was surprisingly diverse. “I don’t see that being a problem.”

  Marjorie reached out a hand to pat his cheek. “As long as she makes you happy, Patty. That’s all that matters. Ignore your old Ma.”

  He smiled into her hand. “I think you may just surprise yourself one day, Ma. Layla has that effect on people.”

  She gave out a loud cackle. “We’ll see about that Patty, we’ll see.”

  30

  “Ho ho!” roared William, as he held up the tickets to the New York Rangers. “She already gets my vote.”

  “Agreed,” said Liam, holding up his Giants’ tickets.

  His sisters were all given cashmere scarves and gift cards to their various favorite stores. The same was true of the older children, while the youngest were given toys she’d been told they wanted.


  She had barely had time to run the bakery with the amount of shopping she’d had to complete.

  “And what did you get Patty?” Rose asked, teasingly using his nickname.

  “Oh, I’ve got his back in the hotel room,” Layla said without thinking. Then she blushed as she saw everyone’s reaction.

  Immediately the cheers and laughter started. The “lubrication” in the kitchen had continued on through dinner, which made things worse. No one was drunk, but they were exceptionally festive.

  “No, I mean—“

  “They know what you mean,” Patrick said, giving them all a warning glance, which did absolutely nothing to stop their taunting.

  “And Patty, is your gift to her back in the hotel room as well?”

  “Well, one thing’s for sure, his don’t require much wrapping paper,” Liam said loudly. Everyone laughed even harder.

  “Now you know why I escaped to L.A.” he said to Layla. She just laughed.

  Watching him with his brothers and sisters was so amusing. She had a tiny peek as to what it was like growing up in such a big family. It was completely different from the almost isolated existence she’d had with just her parents and her. Maybe Patrick was on to something with his continual hints at four—four!—kids. It certainly made the holidays memorable.

  “Okay, okay!” he finally said, putting his hands up. “Now it’s time for Ma’s present.”

  Patrick’s mother had given her the most stress when deciding what to get. Unlike everyone else, she didn’t shop or have enough loyalty to a sports team to warrant tickets. Not that Layla would have been that impersonal with her anyway.

  In fact, the only thing that seemed to get to the woman was family. So Layla had incorporated the services of a few shops in New York, who’d had Marjorie’s present ready when Patrick and she had arrived.

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald,” she said handing his mother the large, flat, rectangular present.

  “Oh, it’s heavy,” she said as she held it in her lap in her usual chair. There was a hint of disapproval, as though already Layla had struck out based on that fact alone.

  She gave Patrick an apprehensive look. He just gave her a reassuring grin and a wink. He had assured her that his mother would love it.

  “Let’s see here,” Marjorie said, carefully pulling away the festive, gold, embossed wrapping, with a large gold, taffeta bow and small white pine cones as trim.

  “It’s awfully fancy.” She pursed her lips, again with a slight hint of disapproval, as she slowly went to work. It was nerve-racking to Layla, and she wasn’t if sure the woman wasn’t purposely making it harder for her. The tension in the room at the glacial pace of the Fitzpatrick matriarch didn’t help.

  Finally, she pulled away the wrapping and, just as slowly, untaped the box underneath. She opened the flaps to reveal the frame underneath.

  “Oh,” was all she said. It was the way she said it, along with the look on her face, that had everyone crowding in to take a look over her shoulder.

  “Oh,” she said again, looking up at Layla with, for once, something approaching a hint of a smile.

  Everyone else joined in with their own expressions of appreciation.

  Inside was a large hand-drawn family tree on parchment paper. At the base of the tree, right above the roots that trailed down three full generations in the past, were John and Marjorie Fitzpatrick. Both sides of their family were detailed below them. Above them, the seven Fitzpatrick children and their progeny were highlighted. The beauty of it was that there was plenty of room made available for any additions later on also going into the third generation…including perhaps a marriage. All Marjorie had to do was send it back to the creators to fill in, free of charge.

  Marjorie’s finger traced over the name of her husband, John William Fitzgerald: 1948-2011. Layla saw a small tear come to the woman’s eye, as she smiled nostalgically down at her present.

  Layla breathed out the air she’d been holding in, hoping that was a good sign. Kathleen gave her an encouraging smile behind her mother, which helped.

  Patrick came over to put his arm around her. “Told you she’d love it,” he whispered in her ear.

  “It’s lovely, dear,” his mother said as if in confirmation. She looked up at Layla, pressing her lips together as though holding in her emotions. “Beautiful.”

  “You know you get an accent when you’re with them,” Layla said.

  Patrick was taking her around, showing her the neighborhood he had grown up in.

  “It’s cute,” she added, taking his arm and snuggling up next to him.

  “Nah, yous just hearin’ things,” he said, laying it on especially thick.

  She laughed and squeezed his arm harder.

  “So this establishment right here,” he said, switching it out for a snooty accent, as he pointed out St. Patricks on 4th avenue, “is where I attended elementary school as a young lad.”

  She laughed again and slapped his chest. “I wasn’t making fun of you, silly. It’s adorable, really.”

  From there he led her down toward the Hudson River.

  “This view is amazing. The bridge is just huge!” Layla said looking down 3rd avenue toward the Verrazano-Narrows bridge.

  “Just wait till you see it from where I’m taking you.”

  He led her down toward the Bay Ridge Promenade where he and his siblings had spent many weekends and days after school riding their bikes and rollerskating until dark.

  “Careful, this first part is steep,” he said.

  “Wow” she said in awe, looking up at the bridge lit against the night sky.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, also looking up at it, remembering many a night seeing this same view when he was younger, and had stayed out just a bit too late.

  Seeing Layla with his family was the final assurance he needed that she was the one. His original plan had been some spectacular, public display on another night at the top of the Empire State Building. But nothing seemed more perfect than right here, right now. Fortunately, he had come prepared tonight. It had been burning a whole in his heavy coat even on the cab ride down to his old home. Perhaps he’d known all along that this was where he would do it.

  He stopped walking and she came to a stop as well, looking over in surprise.

  “You asked me back in Olla what I wanted for Christmas,” he began.

  “Yeah,” she said with a half smile. “And I had to figure it out on my own. I hope you like—“

  “You,” he interrupted.

  “What?” she said, then her eyes grew wide as he fell to his knee.

  “All I want for Christmas is you,” he said, pulling out the gift-wrapped present he’d bought months ago.

  “Oh Patrick,” she gasped as she took it. “Is it…?”

  “Open it and see,” he said chuckling.

  He was actually nervous as she pulled the white and gold paper apart to get at the small box inside. In retrospect, perhaps wrapping it hadn’t been the best plan, but the excited look of anticipation on her face was worth it.

  When she finally got to the black velvet box inside, he saw her breathing get heavier, biting her lip before opening it.

  She gasped. Inside was a 3-carat, princess-cut diamond ring.

  “Layla Brown, will you marry me?”

  “Patrick,” she gasped again, then let loose a loud sob.

  It was not the reaction he was expecting.

  “Is that a…?”

  She nodded, unable to speak through her, now hiccuping sobs. “Ye—[hiccup]—ye…yes!” she finally managed.

  He rose up off his knee and took the box. “Here,” he said chuckling, “Let me.”

  He slid it on her finger, and it looked perfect, glowing in the moonlight. As her crying subsided, he brought a thumb to wipe the tears from her cheek. “Well, that, as usual didn’t go as planned,” he said grinning down at her.

  “Oh Patrick, I’m sorry,” she said, the tears starting again. “I just—I mean I knew it would happen…I w
as just still so….”

  “I know,” he said pulling her in against his chest. “I love that I never know what to expect with you.”

  She moaned miserably against his chest. “I ruined your moment.”

  He just laughed. “No, it was perfect. Just think of the story we’ll have to tell our four kids.”

  She laughed against his chest. A moment later she said: “I love you Patrick.”

  “I love you too, Layla,” he said into her hair. “I can’t wait for us to start our life together.”

  Epilogue

  (Almost) Two Years Later

  It was a a lovely autumn day in Napa Valley. Almost everyone in Olla had come out to watch the couple’s nuptials. They were on a hill overlooking the vineyards of Napa.

  A perfect outdoor setting for a wedding.

  The bride wore a simple, pretty, white, knee-length dress. She carried wine-colored daisies in her hand, one planted in her hair that was held back with a comb on one side. The groom wore a simple black suit with a matching daisy in his lapel.

  Mayor Peterson, or Olaf as he had at one time or another insisted everyone in attendance refer to him as, conducted the ceremony.

  He asked the groom if he would take the bride as his lawfully wedded wife.

  Layla stared at Patrick on the other side of the altar with a secretive smile and found him staring back at her.

  “I do.”

  The same question was asked of the bride.

  “I do.”

  “Then by the power vested in me by the state of California, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Everyone cheered as Saul and Di-Anne enthusiastically kissed. No one more so than his Best Man, Patrick and her Matron-of-Honor, Layla. Patrick was wearing a simple suit as well. Layla had on a wine-colored sleeveless, wrap dress.

  As the newly married couple came apart, they looked around at all their friends and family who had come out to help them complete their union.

  “Congratulations,” Layla said, as Di-Anne hugged her.

  As the couple returned to walk back down the aisle, hand in hand, Patrick reached out to take Layla’s hand to follow them.